Babson College - Babsonian Yearbook (Wellesley, MA)

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Chuck Talksome, Responding to calls G)llege Resources Announces New Fund Raising Program Vice-President of Col- lege Resources, Chuck Talksome, has announced a daring new program to get money from Alums, called Project Beg, Steal Kidnap. The program revolves around the total participation of Alumni children. ' The introduction to the plan is a new color bro- chure prepared by the Development Office enti- tled The 40 Points You Should Know About The Babson Klan. This handy publication outlines the physical and mental bene- fits of making your Bab- son pledge NOW and outlines how your initial donation will be the basis for a computer printed, inflation adjusted scale. This scale will chart what your annual donations should be for the rest of your working life. A slight decrease is permitted dur- ing the preceding ten years. Many Alumni, states Talksome, are just too busy to take notice of our initial mailing. Therefore, those who we do not hear from receive a personal- ized letter along with an- other copy of The Klan. A further suggestion is made that they start their pledge program before Ralphie sends his boys, err sons, out to make a personal visit. In the event that this still illicits no response, Controller, William Cogland has de- vised a scheme for auto- matic monthly deductions to be made from selected Alums Savings Accounts. The administration insists that these withdrawals are small, merely enough to catch the individuals ' attention. The final step in the plan, should these other hints fail, is the kidnap- ping of the Alums ' chil- dren. The children will be housed in one of the suites When Fm at the pub on a T ISJ Wednesday night, trying to if get picked up, I don ' t have ■■■I [ ' H time to worry about my tampon. When a friend said that Dr. Joe had designed o.b. tampons with these really absorbant layers, I tried thenu She was right. Those o.b. layers absorb so well, I can be out for hours without changing. DESIGNED BY A MALE PSYCHOLOGIST Women who do more need more from a tampon. That ' s why a male psychologist, Dr, Joe Wientranb, created the o.b. method. He designed o.b. to be inserted naturally, and to protect as no tampon has before. Free Vfe ' =i raiT £jy |5soe Pie eut- ■4 ' in McCullough where rooms have been renovat- ed with six tier bunk beds. The childre n are kept well fed and allowed to play and mix with the stu- dents. If, however, after four days, the parents have not made their ini- tial pledge, which consists of a ten-year downpay- ment on the Endowment Support Play, treatment becomes less gentle. The kids are forced to take late night tours of certain less desirable dormitories and sit through various Liberal Arts courses with a mandatory visit to the Fun Sci Lab. Talksome refused to elaborate any further on the new pro- gram, stating that Thus far we have been very successful, most Alums are more than happy to make a small donation once they clearly under- stand the situation. We ' re well on our way to our goal of $10 Million with total participation in a year and a half. The one really difficult case that we ' ve had, a Texan with oil interests, broke when we threatened Policy on his 8-year old ... 135

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Whafs The World Com- ing Too? Cont were no others . . . not one single card from any of the three children. What was supposed to be a pleasant dinner turned into a sullen, tear-filled evening. The St. Valentine ' s Day meal-sicker was bad enough but the crowning blows came the day after. Being an invenerate cigarette smoker and, as usual, reaching a state of near panic at just having opened my last pack, I decided to stop at a local drug store to purchase a carton. Since the surgeon general ' s report, I have the feeling that, somehow, cigarettes purchased from drug stores must be a little safer — if not, why would drug stores with all their heal- ing medicines, sell them. Well, anyway, you have to understand the arrangement of this particular drug store before we con- tinue. As you enter the front door, there is a long counter on your right. It has to be long to house the four cash registers, and beneath the counter is a neatly arranged candy display. Display may be a poor choice of words — perhaps museum would be more appropriate for I ' ve never seen as many shapes, sizes or names on candy bars in my life. — In front of all this is an area for lines to form. Displays of the weekly specials, the latest in patent medicines, costume jewlery have all served to make the once spacious area a hazardous maze through which customers must meander before eventually reaching the counter. Now to compound this confusion to a fur- ther degree, it should be remembered that there are four, count ' em, four cash regis- ters — and, of course, only one young lady operating one of them. Perhaps I ' m being charitable when I say, ' young lady. ' True, she was young, but with the stringy chest- nut colored hair, the inevitable wad of chewing gum being masticated as though if she stopped her jaws would lock. In oth- er words, she did not invite you to come to the counter to pay for your purchase, she challenged you!! Funny part is, that a number of people had taken up her gaunt- let and were actually trying to get her to take their money. Summoning up my courage, I decided to join what appeared to be the end of the line — you really had some difficulty tell- ing. A gentleman who had been standing off to one side walked over and asked, Is this the end of the line? I thought it was on the other side. He then proceeded to stand behind me. Now, you have to recog- nize that I ' m a little taller than six-two, and weigh a little bette r than two hundred, not too much of which is fat. Therefore, I ' m not the type you generally jump in front of in a line. But, I ' m getting away from the story, so allow me to go on. As the gentleman and I were chatting about the confusion of the lines, a rather elderly, gray-haired lady of about sixty-five stepped in behind him to wait — I think the kid at the counter had been taking sour-puss lessons from her. As the first man was released from the checker ' s clutches, and the line opened up a bit, I indicated to the gentleman that I thought he had been ahead of me before I joined the line, and I invited him to step ahead of me — after all, he was having trouble bal- ancing a number of items. He thanked me. I stepped to one side, and he and the gray- haired lady stepped up. I don ' t think she was deaf, but I ' m not certain. She just stepped up, practically in the man ' s back pocket, and stared at me, defying me to say anything ... so I did. Excuse me, madam, I began, and the dour look be- came sterner. I said, ' excuse me, mad- am, I continued, and at last, she backed off. Now, maybe I was being rude for not letting her into line with her tube of tooth- paste, but think about it. I could have been going to the end of that line all day long. Of course, then I wouldn ' t have had to face the shrew behind the cash register, but then, all things are relative. The girl behind the counter wasn ' t far- ing any too well. While we stood, she would yell every minute or so, Maria? Maria? Maria? Eventually, another girl appeared. Whadda ya want? asked what must have been a ' Maria ' . Everything stopped as our gumchewer, never missing a beat, and totally ignoring the customers in front of her, explained, Jeez, lookit a line — I need help. This, you must recognize, is a condensed version of the conversation which lasted approximately three minutes. Maria final- ly got the message, and with fear and trepidation (I think that ' s what it was. She moved so slowly toward a second cash reg- ister that I though she might be eligible for Social Security before she got there.), she opened the register and began to study its contents. The line, naturally, was not mov- ing during this interlude — everyone, in- cluding the gum-chewer was watching Maria. She was center stage, the middle ring, top billing. Where ' s Janet? asked the first check- er. Out to lunch, replied Maria. When she go? asked number one. I dunno; little while ago, answered Maria. I was beginning to think that everyone in this damn place was ' out to lunch, ' in more ways than one. I ' m gonna go to lunch too, said the first girl. Not yet, you don ' t eat, answered Ma- ria. Exchange over, Maria now adopted her dour face, turned to the assembled hordes, and asked Whonat? Whonat? she asked again, and the gentleman ahead of me made the big move. There were five people ahead of him, but he made the move to Maria. No one else seemed ready to follow, and therefore, after standing in that line for nearly half an hour, I pulled a ' rude move, ' and stepped in behind him. With an audible tsk, the woman behind me followed, and within another five min- utes, I had presented Maria with $6.09, bravely asked for a few matches, and was on my way. I don ' t know whether or nol the other girl ever had her lunch, and at this juncture, I ' m not certain that I care — I had escaped!! After leaving the store and heading back to work, the following examples of rudeness and bad manner occurred: 1. At the first stop signs, an old man stamped on his brakes, screeched to a stop behind me, and promptly proceeded to blow his horn, as though I had just com- mited the most unpardonable of sins by stopping; 2. At a traffic light which I saw turning yellow from about 25 yards away, I slowed, down, and was quickly passed by a teen- ager who entered the intersection just as the light turned red, and sped happily on; and ' 3. As the light turned green for me to go — not after it had turned, but as it turned, my friend who had ' honked ' me at the stop sign, leaned on the blasted thing again. If I:J was being kind, I suppose I could say that, it ' s nice to see older Americans with quick ' reflexes — I don ' t think I ' ll be that kind. Neither will I confide in you what I said ' under my breath about the old man ' s an- cestry. The point is that we seem to be falling into a horrible trap. To me, it ' s a trap of rudeness that can only culminate in our losing respect for each other, for ourselves, and may, perhaps, lead to some violence. I for one, don ' t believe that it ' s alright for Billy Carter to urinate on airport runways or make racial slurs against the Israelis; nor do I think we should visit another country and talk about Montezuma ' s Re- venge with the leader of that country — tacky, Jimmy, tacky. Maybe, we s hould get back to basics, give etiquette courses in our schools, teach our children proper manners. I hope that we will . . . please. Richard W. Bishop

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